


Bigby Gets Beaten Up

by Chargefire



Category: The Wolf Among Us
Genre: Force-fed Autocannibalism, Gen, Gore, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chargefire/pseuds/Chargefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is basically just me writing a "Bigby gets beaten up" fanfic. There is literally no plot beyond that and I have no shame. Enjoy! (Also: unbetaed.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bigby Gets Beaten Up

"Another fucking long day," Bigby sighed, flicking a cigarette up and lighting it. As he rounded the corner, two burly hands wrapped around his throat, bowling him over and knocking the cigarette out of his hands. Choking, Bigby reached for the hands, eyes glinting yellow. Another man kicked his head, and Bigby gasped, stars flashing in his vision.

The grip on his throat began to take its toll, and Bigby found himself growing weaker. Just as his eyes began to flutter, the hands left his throat. He gasped, coughing and rolling over on his arms. There was a laugh and another kick, this time to his side; he slammed against a brick wall and staggered upright, sizing up the assholes; three, all large, imposing, and glamoured to anonymity; their faces had features, Mundy-like as he could tell, but beyond that he couldn’t get anything. Fucking black market glamours.

“ _Really_ not in the mood for this shit,” he growled, launching himself at the nearest guy. He sidestepped, and another tackled him to the ground; Bigby threw him off with a huff, snarling.

Before he could act, one stomped on his stomach, driving the wind out of him, and then stomped again, and once more, a heavy boot digging into his abdomen. He gasped, each blow compounding into each other; he couldn't breathe, couldn't catch a breath, and he laid there, wheezing. One of his attackers ground a foot on his arm, causing him to splay his fingers out, and with no trepidation, thrust a dagger through his hand.

He howled. "F-f-uck-ers!" he cursed, thrashing.

"Not so "big" and "bad" now," one attacker commented, and the others chuckled. Bigby growled, other hand trying to free the dagger. One of the men put a foot lightly on his throat and Bigby stilled, glaring at the man.

"Fuck... you," he spat, and the man increased some of the pressure until he was dizzy, black spots exploding across his vision. His free hand had found its way to the boot, weakly trying to move it. One of the men rolled a glass vial around in his hand before uncorking it, waving it in front of Bigby and tilting it against his lips, pouring the bitter potion down his throat.

The man stepped away as Bigby gasped, swallowing most of it. Immediately, Bigby found himself dizzy; the alley spun and shifted, a blurry watercolor of an artist's palette, and his nose felt blunted somehow. "Wh... sss... in th..." he fumbled, tongue heavy and thick.

"Just to make sure you stay in that human form," one man chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll feel pain the same." To drive the point home, he gripped the dagger imbedded in Bigby's hand and twisted. 

He moaned low, the pain sharp against his other dulled senses. As one man took Bigby's hand and pushed back his index finger, the burn in where the finger met his palm grew and stretched, uncomfortable but not quite painful. Then the man slammed the finger back. Bigby jerked to the side, choking at the sudden pain. "Didn't think this fucker would go down so easily," one said slowly, kicking him in the side. Bigby curled up, knees trying to block any incoming attacks.

“Nice try, but-” The speaker kicked him, rolling him back so he was no longer on his side. “-this is gonna be a long night for you, Wolf.” 

“Hey,” one of the group said, voice seemingly farther away. “I got an idea.” Just for good measure, he pushed the dagger still in Bigby’s hand around, and Bigby breathed hard, shaking from the pain.

“Yeah?”

“Well...” the dagger-happy one responded, digging the dagger out with a squelch, “this fucker’s eaten so many people. He must be... hungry.” He punctuated that word with a forceful cut on Bigby’s arm, slowly drawing the knife back and forth in a sawing motion until there was pressure against the knife.

“.. S- st... p...” Bigby whispered, eyes screwed shut against the fresh waves of pain that rolled into each other. 

He lifted the dagger away and pantomimed angled slices, eyes glinting as the other two understood. "Yeah," one agreed after a pause.

With that, the man picked up Bigby’s arm; Bigby recognized that it was being moved, but in his magically induced stupor, everything felt distant, as if it was happening to someone else. Then the man began to cut into Bigby’s arm.

Bigby let out a cry, tensing through his daze as the man angled his knife, lifting only the skin from his muscle. He felt slow, like a heavy presence had settled over him; and he whined low, his stab-free hand (minus the index) clenching, rounded nails digging into palm and teeth grinding against each other. The man grimaced and lifted the skin off Bigby’s muscle, tossing it to the side.

“Wait,” the one on the left said. “Don’t just throw that away. I know there’s some spells witches can do with that shit.”

“You mean the skin?” the man on the right asked.

He waved his hand dismissively. "And the blood and hair. Don't you know anything about this shit?"

"Fuck you," he said without heat, gingerly lifting the bloody biomass up and placing it in a small jar.

The man with the dagger began to cut into the exposed muscle, roughly slicing to the bone. It stuck, unwilling to separate; the man tugged and with a jerk, freed the flesh from the bone. “Hey, Wolf. You here?” he asked lightly, shaking him. Bigby floated in his haze, hearing the words but not quite understanding. 

“I said-”

He picked up Bigby by his hair, fingers curling and tugging roughly.

“-You _here_ , Wolf?” 

One of the men shook his head, waving the aggressor off. “It’s probably the potion, remember? Senses dulled, except for pain.”

“Kinda kills the point if he can’t fucking understand what we’re feeding him,” he responded in disgust. He stood, eyeing his dagger. “Fuck it.” He sliced the cut muscle in pieces and pushed Bigby up against the wall so he was sitting, hand gripping Bigby’s jaw.

Bigby clenched his jaw shut, pulling away. His attacker let go and slammed his fist into Bigby’s stomach - once, twice, three times. Bigby gasped, mouth opening in a facsimile of a fish out of water. Before it could close, the attacker shoved a slice of Bigby’s muscle into Bigby’s mouth and clamped it shut. Bigby swallowed hard, unresisting and feeling detached from his body.

A voice cut sharply through the air. "Get the _fuck_ away from him," she said, sound low and angry.

"Shit," the main attacker cursed, jumping up. "Snow White."

"That's me. Now get away from him, unless you want some new holes," she said levelly (as much she could, considering Bigby was on the ground, scarcely moving), gun flicking between the three.

"Look, we can be reasonable about this, right?"

Snow grew incredulous. " _Reasonable_?" she ground out. "You just-"

One of them threw something to the ground, and a silky darkness covered the area. By the time it cleared, they were gone. "Shit," she cursed, lowering her gun, and approaching Bigby. "Fuck, Bigby?" she asked, stomach turning at the sight in front of her: bruises forming in the shape of splotchy hints of hands on his throat, a finger facing the wrong direction, and a chunk of his arm missing.

"Snow...?" Bigby gasped, trembling, eyes unfocused.

Snow bit the inside of her cheek. "There's a payphone over there. I'll be right back, o- okay?" 

She hurried over to the phone, glancing back while she dug out some coins. She dialed the number into the phone, fidgeting in impatience.

"Hello, this is Dr. Swineheart's office, how-"

She cut him off. "Dr. Swineheart, it's an emergency. Please, I can't move him, and he seemed drugged-"

"Calm down, Miss Snow. Where are you?" She told him their location. "I'll be there in ten."

She hurried back. Bigby was groaning but appeared more lucid. "Snow?" he asked as she came into view.

"Bigby? Are you feeling okay?" she asked, trying to ignore his mutilated arm. "What... what happened?"

He tried to sit up, using his arm with the broken finger for balance. Snow helped him, gently bringing him to lean against the alley wall. "Thanks... I got attacked and they poured something down my throat..."

"And?" she pressed.

"Fuck, I don't know... everything's really foggy until now," he responded, closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. "There was pain."

Snow placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Doctor Swineheart will be here-"

A car pulled up and the man himself got out, putting the car in idle.

"-right now, actually. Doctor Swineheart."

He grimaced when his gaze fell on Bigby's arm. "Are those pieces of your arm on the ground?" he asked, mouth turning downward.

Bigby looked at his arm and then the ground. "Oh." He moved around a bit and then said: "I can't feel my hand."

"That's to be expected, I think," answered Doctor Swineheart. "The nerves were probably destroyed. It's a miracle they didn't hit any major blood vessels."

Snow grimaced while Bigby lolled forward somewhat, halfway in a haze and halfway not. "Will be okay?"

"I don't know how much function you'll regain, Mr. Wolf. Although since your stories are well known, I wouldn't be too surprised if you make a near-complete recovery."

Snow breathed a sigh of relief.

"Anyway... I'll be able to treat you better at my office," Swineheart concluded, and motioned for Snow to help him get Bigby to the car.

"What do I do with... uh..." Snow gestured at the pieces of Bigby lying on the ground.

"Take them, what else? We don't want Mundys stumbling on them," he answered, waiting while Bigby fumbled with his seatbelt. He tossed her a jar and a rag. "Use these."

Mouth set in a heavy frown of disgust, she proceeded to pick up the flesh, gagging slightly at the feeling of cloth-covered flesh. When she was done, she placed the jar in the seat, climbing in next to Bigby. "What about the blood?"

He pulled out a clunky off-white cellphone about the length of his head from the inside console. "I'll call my assistant about that. Hold it so I can drive, please." She reached over the console and propped it up against his ear after he dialed, and with that, they drove off.

**Author's Note:**

> btw, the phone dr. swineheart has is a DynaTAC. gotta love 80s tech


End file.
